


His Name is Bucky

by Cryptand_Bismol (orphan_account)



Series: Ichor [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: But she's also nosy af, Eldritch, Eldritch Bucky, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Natasha Romanov, Secret Relationship, hybrid bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 00:51:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18000677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cryptand_Bismol
Summary: "Steve sluggishly stumbled into a briefing late, hair barely tamed, kiss-red lips and an obscene hickey half hidden by the neck of his shirt. Natasha drank in every detail about his appearance, barely even listening to the meeting.So, Steve had a secret lover. "





	His Name is Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> I am so bad at titles, and all my works on AO3 can attest to that 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Natasha prided herself on being observant. She saw everything, knew everyone’s secrets, even could tell what people were thinking. And yet it was Steve Rogers, of all people, who eluded her.

There was a hint of something a few months ago, just after their mission in Europe. It seemed like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, he looked content in the morning instead of resigned, smiled easier. She might have suspected that it was joy at having taken down several significant HYDRA facilities at once, if she had not seen the moroseness of the man after every other HYDRA mission they’d been on, serving as a reminder of the cruelty of humanity. But no, this Steve was happy.

She watched him closely, but nothing else seemed to be out of the ordinary. He didn’t go anywhere new, speak to anyone different. Had just taken to looping fingers around his wrist when he was uncomfortable, lips twitching into a smile.

She was willing to let the matter rest in lieu of any substantial information, until the day Steve walked into the tower with a spring in his step and smiling eyes. He laughed at Tony’s teasing, didn’t scowl at being called Capsicle, and even slung an arm around Tony’s shoulders in a half-hug. Stark looked a little star-struck after Steve pulled away with a squeeze to the shoulder and bounded over to speak to Sam.

Interesting.

It was even more interesting when barely a week later he sluggishly stumbled into a briefing _late_ , hair barely tamed, kiss-red lips and an obscene hickey half hidden by the neck of his shirt. He was spared too much of a lecture on punctuality by Fury only because Tony had called to cancel. But Natasha drank in every detail about his appearance, barely even listening to the meeting.

So, Steve had a secret lover.

Possibly someone he met in Budapest, someone who must have either been vacationing there, but more likely someone who was living there at the time. That would explain the wistful look Steve had about him in those first few months, longing for someone thousands of miles away. She made a mental note to check recent immigrants arriving from Budapest, and follow up with those that had registered their address to within a 30-mile radius Steve’s apartment. Sure, Steve could take care of himself, but background checks exist for a reason; there are far too many people who have ulterior motives towards Captain America.

After the meeting, Steve didn’t even stay to apologise to Fury, he waved hastily at everyone and almost sprinted out of the tower. Natasha frowned; Steve was already in deep. She hoped this person checked out.

There were a few people who matched the criteria, but most of them were barely-legal students, or crusty old business men. Only three people seemed to be in the right age-range and have the right character for Steve, but they were quickly eliminated too when Natasha staked them out. Two of them were already in relationships and the third had been away on a business trip at the time of the last meeting.

She should have suspected that the person Steve would fall for would be the type to go under the radar, after all he was sweet on _the_ Peggy Carter back in the 40s. What other reason would Steve have to hide his partner? She scrubbed a hand across her face and sighed, she would rather not spy on her friend, but if he was seeing a potential spy or fugitive that made it more serious and she had to up her game.

It wasn’t too hard to tail Steve, though she was still without results after three weeks. He would go for a run every other morning, sometimes with Sam and sometimes on his own, then stop off at the bakery three streets over to buy an obnoxious amount of pastries and then head home, usually getting back at 10am. Some days he would not leave the house until the next run, but others he would step out, alone, and explore the city. He smiled at passers-by, and graciously spoke with eager fans, but never lingered anywhere too long before he was returning home. He made visits to the Avengers tower at least once a week, though he never stayed overnight, despite having a room set up for him. There was no sign of anyone in his life, aside from the occasional love-bite on his skin.

Frustrated, she outright asked him the next time she saw him, hoping that her forwardness might reveal something, but Steve just smiled at her and shrugged.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky knew The Black Widow was incredibly skilled, noticed every little insignificant detail. But he also knew that she underestimated Steve’s own perception. Steve had noticed her tailing him immediately, and told Bucky so when he’d returned from his run, and together they decided to wait it out, sure that even the super spy would stop after finding nothing, or at least explore other options.

He thought it would be easy to keep out of sight; he didn’t leave the house all that often anyway, mainly tagging along with Steve on a walk when he was feeling particularly sentimental, well, aside from the times he went out to buy something and ended up distractedly walking into a different state. It drove him mad though, made him feel like a prisoner.

It wasn’t so bad at night, when they could cuddle close together and pretend that they weren’t sneaking about. But he just wanted to walk around Prospect Park, rest against Steve as he sketched and as he read his favourite sci-fi novel. Wanted to sit in cafes together, go out to restaurants and hold hands across the table. Wanted to go to a bar or a club and dance with him, filthy and intimate in the way that would get them arrested seventy years ago.

No. No, they can’t have that. Not yet anyway. Keeping himself secret meant keeping Steve safe. He knew what they did to beings like him, and if they ever found out that they imprinted on each other Steve could be at their mercy too.

It was after two weeks of self-imposed house arrest, two weeks of reminding himself that they couldn’t just be a normal couple, two weeks of thinking that Steve was better off without him, two weeks before he snapped. It started as another argument at Steve’s lack of self-preservation, and ended with him yelling at Steve in his frustration.

And, he supposed he was a coward, for he resorted to a nasty trick that he knew he shouldn’t attempt, especially after last time. It drained him massively and always caused him to spend the next day recovering, and it was running away from his problems, but he needed to get out of this damn apartment. He closed his eyes and let his body collapse into the carpet, fizzling in and out of reality and co-existing in both the apartment and a dimly lit copse of trees, tuning out the sound of Steve calling his name. When he opened his eyes he was laying back in rough dirt and staring up at the sky hidden by leaves, his body aching like he had been hit by a truck.

Fuck. He really shouldn’t have done that. Steve was going to be _pissed_.

He was lucky that he hadn’t strayed too far, just to a secluded area of Forest Park, the smell of the damp forest reminding him of home, one beyond the stars and one across the city. He lay there for a moment longer, gathering the strength to put on his façade.

It wasn’t a long walk home, but he was soaked by the time he got back. Quite frankly, he didn’t give a flying fuck where Natasha Romanoff was right at this moment, he wanted to shed this stupid human form and hold his boyfriend without feeling like a criminal. He knew Steve wasn’t there the second he opened the door and his mood shifted even darker. He spent the rest of the day in the bath, not even moving when he heard the front door open.

“Buck?”

Not having the energy to reach out, the sloshed the water half-heartedly and hoped Steve could hear him. Gentle footsteps padded towards the bathroom, and Bucky rippled the water again at the sight of his boyfriend, eyes tired and shoulders wary.

He rested one of his tentacles against the edge of the bath in offering. Steve smiled hopefully at him, taking the tendril in hand, and letting it wrap around his wrist. Bucky spoke, the words bubbling to the surface of the water, warped but the words clear, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Buck. I’m sorry too. I know it’s been stressful.”

“I love you. I don’t want to hide.”

Steve stroked his hand through the water, “I love you too. And I don’t want to hide either. I want my friends to meet you, just... not like this. Not because they’re spying on me and trying to pick you apart like a puzzle.”

Bucky chirped affectionately, squeezing Steve’s hand, “Join me?”

He smiled, pulling his hand out of Bucky’s grasp and peeling off his clothes. He climbed into the tub, letting Bucky shroud him, almost every part of them connected together.

 

* * *

 

 

Late one night a thought occurred to her. She never saw anyone other than Steve enter or leave the apartment, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. A fugitive would hardly waltz about the streets in the middle of New York, after all. She would have to be careful, this person was clearly skilled, but this was about Steve’s safety, so she had to try.

Slipping into Steve’s apartment block was easy, and no-one even glanced at her as she strode purposefully up the stairs. Steve’s floor was empty, both apartments quiet, but she made her footsteps even lighter as she approached the door. She stood there listening for ten minutes or more, but it remained utterly silent. She knocked on the door, a loud but cheerful tone, and knocked once more when no-one answered.

Steve didn’t know she had a key to his place, something she’d made sure to get after he insisted that he would not live in Avengers Tower, and she quietly unlocked the door and stepped inside.

It was warm inside, almost humid, with the smell of earth rich in the air. Looking around the room it seemed the source was the menagerie of plants Steve had acquired, strewn over every surface. Each to their own, she supposed. With each step it was evident the room was empty, though she didn’t relax. There was no obvious sign that anyone but Steve lived there, but she was sure that they _had_ to be. She set up cameras and audio devices in key spots, making sure to keep the two separated on the off chance that Steve notice one of them. She ignored the bedroom, allowing him at least some privacy.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a good job he was very good at remaining unnoticed. She looked straight at him when she walked past the coffee shop, and it was so easy to mirror the looks the other patrons were giving her. She moved on, clearly finding him lacking, and headed to their apartment block across the road as though she lived there. He moved inside the café, not wanting to draw attention by still sitting outside when she left.

He sipped his coffee, amused as he pictured Natasha pacing through their flat, trying to bug the place. She would make sure that nothing was disturbed, nothing that Steve would notice anyway, convincing herself that it was because she was concerned and not merely because she was curious.

Natasha spent almost half an hour in the flat, knowing that Steve would be on his run for close to two hours. She was very good at concealing her emotions, but Bucky was perceptive and could feel her satisfied aura as she pushed the door open and strode off down the street.

Pity that his presence didn’t agree with cameras or microphones. He’d tried calling Steve on his cell phone once but the resulting sound made Steve’s ears bleed. They stuck to texting after that.

He finished his second coffee and a particularly good apple Danish before heading back home and getting to work removing the cameras.

 

* * *

 

 

Barely twelve hours later she was reviewing the surveillance footage with confusion. Initially the camera footage showed a clear image of Steve’s empty apartment, but after twenty minutes the door opened and the image on the first camera warped, flickering from white noise to unintelligible lines, before it cut out altogether. The other cameras did the same, and within a two-minute window all of them were offline. The audio bugs weren’t much better. There was silence until the sound of a lock opening, before a piercing shriek like audio feedback made her rip her headphones out.

The next day, while she was still musing over what course of action to take next, Steve approached her in the common room of the Avengers Tower. He was carrying a small cardboard box which he gently dumped on her knee, “Please don’t bug my apartment again.”

Sure enough, the box was full of wires and electronics.

“His name is Bucky.” Steve said, before heading back to the elevator and not looking back.


End file.
